I was dreaming about food.
In the dream, I was sitting at a table piled high with my grandmother's cooking—dal makhani, naan fresh from the tandoor, chicken biryani that smelled like heaven itself—and I was reaching for it when—
My instincts screamed: DANGER.
My eyes snapped open.
Three arrows. Incoming. Fast.
My instincts—on edge by my recent fights—screamed warnings at me.
Danger from three angles. Center mass. Professional shots.
Oh, you've GOT to be—
My body moved before my brain fully caught up.
Golden-red fire EXPLODED from my chest.
The Kavach—manifested in a flash of light. Chestplate, gauntlets, helmet, kundal earrings, all materializing in under a second.
My hands blazed with fire as I rolled sideways.
The first arrow hit my chestplate with a resounding CLANG and bounced off, spinning away.
Fire knives formed in both my hands—solid flame shaped into blades—and I lashed out on pure instinct.
Second arrow met my right knife. SLASH. Cut clean through, both halves tumbling past my head.
Third arrow coming for my legs. Left knife came up in a spinning deflection. The arrow ricocheted into the warehouse wall with a thunk.
All of this happened in maybe four seconds.
I landed in a crouch, fully armored, fire knives blazing, eyes glowing gold and red, breathing hard.
Staring at three girls in silver parkas who were staring back at me with expressions ranging from shock to fury.
"...what?" I managed.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!"
The shout came from the one in the middle—auburn hair, maybe sixteen, absolutely radiating hostility. She had her bow drawn again, arrow nocked, aimed right at my face.
My brain finally caught up with the situation.
Silver parkas. Bows. All girls. The way they moved—professional, coordinated, dangerous.
Oh no.
Oh no no no no no.
"You're Hunters of Artemis," I said, more statement than question.
The auburn-haired one's eyes narrowed. "He knows of us."
"That armor..." said another—taller, with a scar on her cheek, studying me analytically. "I've never seen anything like it."
"And those flames are NOT Greek fire," added the third—youngest of the trio, maybe fourteen, looking more curious than angry.
"He manifested that in his SLEEP," the young one continued. "What is he? A monster?"
"WHERE IS THE DRAGON?!" the auburn-haired one shouted, and I realized she was the leader of this little murder squad.
"What dragon—wait, Sybaris?" I said, still processing. "You're tracking Sybaris?"
All three of them stared at me.
"I stabbed it two days ago," I said, then realized how that sounded. "I mean—"
"YOU WHAT?!"
All three. In unison. Loud enough to echo through the warehouse.
"Okay," I said, holding up my fire knives in what I hoped was a non-threatening way (hard to do while literally holding weapons made of flame). "Can we maybe TALK about—"
"FIRE AGAIN!" the auburn-haired one shouted.
And they did.
Three more arrows came flying at me.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!" I shouted, throwing myself behind a crate.
Arrows thudded into the wood where I'd just been standing.
"Can we TALK about this?!" I yelled from cover.
An arrow whizzed past my head.
"I just woke up!"
Another arrow, I blocked it with my armor.
"Why does everyone START with violence?!"
I ducked as an arrow embedded itself in the crate inches from my face.
"TALKING!" I shouted. "It's a thing people DO!"
"Shut up, MALE!" the auburn-haired one—definitely the aggressive one—screamed back. "You don't belong here! Filthy creature in our hunting ground!"
"I'M NOT ATTACKING YOU!" I yelled, deflecting another arrow with my fire knife. "I'm DEFENDING myself! There's a DIFFERENCE!"
The tall one with the scar—clearly more professional than her companion—was firing with tactical precision. Not trying to kill, trying to disable. "Phoebe, watch your angle!"
So the angry one was Phoebe. Good to know who wanted me dead.
The youngest was shooting too, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. "Shouldn't we ask him who he—"
"SHOOT HIM!" Phoebe interrupted.
I tried shouting my explanation between dodges: "I'm on a quest!"
"LIAR!" Phoebe fired at my legs.
"I fought Sybaris two days ago!"
"Impossible!" The tall one fired from a different angle.
"I stabbed it in the eye!"
"NOBODY believes your lies, MALE!" Phoebe again, her voice dripping with venom.
"I'm NOT lying! My sword is LITERALLY stuck in its eye socket!"
"Then where's your sword, LIAR?!" Phoebe demanded, firing three arrows in rapid succession.
"IN THE DRAGON'S FACE, I JUST SAID!" I blocked all three with a sweep of my fire knives. "Why won't you LISTEN?!"
But they weren't listening. They were just shooting.
"Typical male! All lies and bravado!" Phoebe shouted between shots.
"You probably ran FROM the dragon!"
"Coward hiding in a warehouse!"
"Acting tough with your fancy fire tricks!"
"Pathetic!"
Each insult was punctuated by another arrow.
My armor was starting to flicker. I'd manifested it in my sleep, and maintaining it while exhausted was draining me fast. The fire knives were dimming.
"PLEASE just stop shooting for ONE MINUTE!" I yelled desperately. "Let me EXPLAIN!"
"Males don't get to explain!" Phoebe screamed back. "Males LIE! Males manipulate! Males BETRAY!"
There was real venom in her voice. Real hatred. This wasn't just about me being a threat or an unknown. This was personal for her.
The tall one—still shooting with professional precision—spoke up quietly: "Phoebe... he's not attacking back."
"Because he's WEAK!" Phoebe fired two more arrows. "Or waiting for an opening! Don't trust it!"
First Sybaris tries to eat me, I thought desperately as I dodged behind another crate. Then six people DIE because of me. Then Hermes—the god who KILLED me—gives me a ride. And now I'm being shot at by LEGENDARY HUNTERS while I'm exhausted and weaponless.
WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT ME DEAD?!
I JUST WOKE UP!
My armor was almost gone now. The fire knives were barely holding form. I was bleeding from several grazes where arrows had gotten too close.
They weren't going to stop.
They weren't going to listen.
I was unknown. I was male. I was a threat.
Kill first, ask questions never.
Then Phoebe fired again.
Arrow aimed low.
Meant to disable my leg.
I saw the angle—too low to block with my hands from this position.
Had to dodge.
Threw myself sideways—
Too slow.
The arrow grazed my inner thigh.
Missed the target but kept going—
THUNK.
Embedded itself in the warehouse floor.
Right between where my legs had been a second ago.
If I'd stayed put—
If I hadn't moved—
Inches—INCHES—from my crotch.
Everything stopped.
Time slowed down.
I stared down at the arrow.
Quivering.
In the floor.
Between my legs.
So. Close.
Two seconds of complete silence.
Maybe three.
My brain went through five stages of grief in rapid succession:
Shock.
Horror.
Disbelief.
Realization.
And finally: RAGE.
I looked up.
My eyes—I could feel them—were BLAZING gold and red.
"Okay," I said, my voice absolutely flat and deadly calm.
"OKAY."
"That's IT."
"We're FIGHTING now."
The fire knives dissolved in my hands.
Then something happened.
My armor—the Kavach that had protected me—began to shimmer.
Golden light rippling across the chestplate, the gauntlets, the helmet.
Then it started to dissolve.
Not breaking. Not shattering.
Flowing.
The divine energy of armor unwove itself, golden-red light streaming from my body like reverse lightning. The kundal earrings blazed bright, then faded. The helmet dissolved into pure light. The chestplate fractured into thousands of golden motes.
All that power—all that divine protection—flowing into my hands.
Concentrating.
Reshaping.
The air around me IGNITED.
Golden-red flames EXPLODED from my palms—not wild, not chaotic, but purposeful. Every ounce of energy from my armor, every drop of my divine power flowing in my veins—
All of it flowing into one point.
My hands.
The fire was reshaping.
Forming something new.
Longer.
Curved.
Beautiful.
Heat radiated in waves. The temperature spiked twenty degrees. The ground beneath my feet scorched.
A bow manifested in my hands.
But not like any Greek bow I'd ever seen.
This was Indian.
This was my heritage made manifest.
This was Karna's legacy.
This was my Dhanush .
The bow was made of pure golden-red fire—but solid, real, tangible. I could feel the weight of it in my hands. It was a recurve design, the traditional dhanush that Indian warriors had used for millennia. Ornate beyond belief, with patterns that looked like sunrise captured in flame, like solar flares frozen in time.
The string was made of concentrated light, humming with power.
Heat radiated from it in waves.
This was hot, golden, sun-forged fury.
This was the SUN itself shaped into a weapon.
I drew back the string.
No physical arrow appeared.
Instead, fire FORMED on the string—pure flame shaping itself into an arrow, golden-red and burning with barely contained rage.
I aimed directly at Phoebe.
She'd started to mock: "Oh, now he has a—"
Then she saw the bow.
Saw the FIRE ARROW.
Saw my FACE.
"...oh."
"You wanted to fight?" I said quietly.
I released.
FWOOOOOOSH.
The fire arrow SCREAMED through the air.
So fast it was almost invisible.
Phoebe barely dodged, throwing herself sideways.
The arrow hit the wall behind her and EXPLODED in a burst of flame, leaving a massive scorch mark on the concrete.
All three Hunters froze.
"Did he just—" the youngest started.
"That was—" the tall one continued.
"HOW?!" Phoebe finished.
I drew the string again. Another fire arrow formed. Released.
Drew. Formed. Released.
FAST.
Each arrow burning through the air.
Each one ANGRY.
The tall one fired at me. My fire arrow intercepted hers mid-flight. Both arrows EXPLODED in a flash of light.
The youngest fired from a different angle. Another fire arrow. BOOM - intercepted.
Phoebe fired twice in rapid succession. I fired TWICE in response.
Both intercepted mid-air.
Arrow for arrow.
Shot for shot.
"Stop MOVING!" Phoebe screamed, firing three arrows rapid-fire.
I countered with THREE fire arrows.
All six collided mid-air in a triple explosion.
"STOP DOING THAT!" she yelled.
"You shot at me while I was SLEEPING!" I shouted back, firing another arrow.
I was breathing hard, but something was happening. Each shot was getting easier. Each draw was more fluid. Each arrow more accurate.
We settled into it then—a proper archery battle.
Against the youngest—Naomi, I heard them call her—I was completely dominant. Every shot she took, I countered. Every angle she tried, I was already there.
"I can't get a shot!" she yelled.
"How is he DOING this?!"
Against Phoebe, it was even. Shot for shot. Neither gaining ground.
But against the tall one—Atalanta—I was purely defensive.
She was the BEST of the three.
She fired. I barely intercepted.
She fired immediately after—predicted my counter.
Her arrow grazed my shoulder.
"OW!"
"Phoebe, he's distracted—NOW!" she called out.
They were working together. Atalanta suppressing. Phoebe attacking. Naomi flanking.
I had to track ALL THREE simultaneously.
This is INSANE, part of my brain thought. Three trained Hunters and I'm holding my own.
But I couldn't keep this up forever.
That's when I realized: I couldn't win by matching them shot for shot.
But my arrows were EXPLOSIVE.
Time to use it.
I stopped trying to intercept precisely.
Instead, I started firing for AREA EFFECT.
Naomi was hiding behind a crate.
I shot at the CRATE.
BOOM.
The crate exploded.
Naomi screamed and ran.
I fired at her new cover.
BOOM.
"Stop blowing everything up!"
"No!"
Phoebe fired three arrows.
I fired ONE explosive arrow between us.
BOOM.
The blast deflected all her arrows.
"That's CHEATING!"
"That's SMART!"
Against Atalanta, I fired at the floor. BOOM. Dust clouded her vision.
Fired at the ceiling. BOOM. The warehouse groaned.
I started advancing.
BOOM BOOM BOOM.
Everything burning. Smoke everywhere.
They were being pushed BACK.
"He's not even AIMING anymore!" Naomi yelled. "Just SHOOTING at EVERYTHING!"
Phoebe tried one of her explosive arrows.
BOOM.
I dodged.
"Oh, so YOU have explosive arrows too!"
"Only THREE left!"
I manifested another.
"I have INFINITE!"
Phoebe stared.
"...that's not fair."
The warehouse couldn't take much more.
Structural damage accumulating. Walls cracking. Ceiling groaning.
Atalanta realized first.
"Phoebe! We need to retreat!"
"We can take him!"
"Not if we're DEAD from the ceiling collapsing!"
A support beam buckled.
"OUT! NOW!"
They sprinted for the exit.
I stopped firing, watching them run.
The building groaned around me.
They made it outside just as part of the ceiling came down.
I stood there in the partially collapsed warehouse, fire bow blazing, surrounded by smoke and fire.
Breathing hard.
Victorious.
Outside, Phoebe's voice: "...okay maybe we underestimated him."
I walked out carefully.
Fire bow still manifested.
Eyes still gold and red.
Covered in dust, bleeding from grazes, swaying from exhaustion.
But standing.
Twenty feet away, the three Hunters stood with bows drawn.
Mexican standoff.
"Can we PLEASE talk now?" I said.
Phoebe's arrow aimed at my chest. "Lower your weapon, MALE."
"You first."
"We outnumber you."
"I don't care."
Then—
THWIP.
A silver arrow.
Different from theirs.
This one GLOWED.
Slammed into the ground one foot in front of me, quivering with power.
THWIP.
Another in front of the three Hunters.
Warning shots.
Then a voice echoed across the street.
Regal.
Royal.
Ancient.
"STOP! I COMMAND THEE!"
The three Hunters immediately lowered their bows and bowed their heads.
I kept my fire bow raised.
"I don't care WHO you are. I'm not lowering my weapon for—"
Then she emerged from the foliage.
And I—exhausted, wounded, barely standing—froze.
She was... striking.
Tall, athletic build that spoke of centuries of training. Copper-toned skin that seemed to glow in the early morning light. Dark hair pulled back in an intricate braid that fell past her shoulders. High cheekbones, full lips set in a stern line, and dark eyes that held the weight of millennia.
Beautiful in a way that was almost painful to look at—not soft or delicate, but sharp and dangerous. Like a perfectly forged blade. Like moonlight on water. Ancient and timeless and perfect.
Silver parka worn with absolute authority.
Those ancient eyes—older than anything I'd ever seen—locked onto mine.
Her bow already drawn, arrow aimed at my heart.
Steady. Expert stance. No tremor. No hesitation.
When she spoke, her voice had an archaic accent. Formal.
"STOP."
Single word.
Absolute authority.
I froze.
Something in that voice suggested: This one is DANGEROUS.
"No," I said, keeping my bow up.
Her eyebrow raised slightly.
Nobody told her "no."
"I don't take orders from you."
We stood there. Two archers. Neither backing down.
"He's INSANE," Phoebe whispered. "That's the LIEUTENANT."
The lieutenant studied me carefully.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Then—
Grrrrrrowwwwwwl.
My stomach.
LOUD.
Like absolute BETRAYAL.
Everyone stopped.
GRRRROWWWWL.
Even LOUDER.
My face turned red.
Phoebe started to laugh—caught herself, smirking.
Atalanta blinked. "When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday"
"You fought us while THIS hungry?"
Naomi giggled.
The lieutenant's expression shifted.
Understanding.
Recognition.
"Thou art depleted," she said.
Her bow lowered slightly.
"Wounded, exhausted, hungry. And yet thou standest defiant."
Pause.
"...impressive."
"We art Hunters of Artemis. We have food. We have supplies. We mean no harm to thee."
Pause.
"If thou comest peacefully."
"And why would I trust that? You just tried to KILL me."
"You attacked US!" Phoebe burst out.
The lieutenant raised her hand. Phoebe shut up.
"If thou comest peacefully, we will feed thee. This I swear."
"How can you guarantee that?" I gestured at Phoebe. "THIS one wants to eat me. I don't even know why."
Phoebe exploded: "I don't want to EAT you—that's disgusting—I want to KILL you—"
She realized what she'd said.
"I mean—"
Atalanta facepalmed.
Naomi tried not to laugh.
And the lieutenant's lips twitched.
Just barely.
The smallest hint of a smile.
All three Hunters froze.
Zoe Nightshade never smiles.
NEVER.
Especially not at males.
But she just had.
The lieutenant—Zoe—composed herself.
"I am Lieutenant of Lady Artemis's Hunt. Second in command. My word is law here."
She looked directly at me.
Her voice took on a formal tone.
"I swear upon the River Styx."
Thunder rumbled.
"Thou shalt not be harmed."
More thunder.
"Thou shalt be fed."
The air vibrated.
"Thou shalt be treated as guest."
Thunder again.
"So long as thou followest Lady Artemis's rules and comest peacefully."
Final thunder, sealing it.
I stared.
She'd just sworn on the River Styx.
The most binding oath that existed.
"...you just—that's binding."
"Aye. It is."
"So. What sayest thou? Food and safety, or continued standoff whilst thou collapsest from exhaustion?"
My pride said: keep fighting.
My survival said: you'll die.
My stomach said: FOOD NOW.
"What are the rules?"
"No violence toward Hunters. No inappropriate behavior. No escape attempts. Respectful conduct. And thou must answer our questions."
I hesitated. "...I don't like interrogations."
She studied me.
"Try me."
I looked at the fire bow. At the exhausted Hunters. At Zoe's ancient eyes.
At my failing strength.
Fine.
Slowly, I let the fire bow fade.
Until I was just standing there—a teenage boy, exhausted, wounded, swaying.
Looking very young and very tired.
"Fine. I'll come peacefully."
Pause.
"But I want breakfast FIRST. Before questions."
Her lips twitched again.
"Acceptable."
Zoe commanded the trio: "Atalanta, Naomi—scout ahead. Phoebe—with me. We escort him."
To me: "Thou shalt walk between us. No tricks. Understood?"
"Understood."
I took one step.
Stumbled.
"...maybe walking SLOWLY between you."
"How long hast thou been traveling?"
"Left camp Thursday. It's been... a journey."
All four Hunters stared at the state of me—dried blood, monster dust, exhaustion.
"Clearly," Atalanta muttered.
We walked through San Francisco as dawn broke.
Zoe leading. Me stumbling. Phoebe behind, glaring.
Each step harder than the last.
Adrenaline wearing off. Full exhaustion hitting.
But pride kept me upright.
Zoe glanced back. "We art not far. Canst thou make it?"
"I'm fine."
Stumbled.
"...mostly fine."
Phoebe snorted. "Stubborn fool."
But quieter than before. Less hostile.
Zoe spoke: "The dragon. Sybaris. Thou truly fought it?"
"Yeah. Stabbed it in the eye. Lost my sword in its face. It's very angry at me now."
Zoe stopped.
Turned to look at me.
Really LOOK.
"Thou... wounded Sybaris. And survived. Alone."
"Technically I had Hermes, but he just drove. I did the stabbing part."
Phoebe: "You expect us to believe—"
Zoe raised her hand. "Later, Phoebe. After food."
To me: "Thou shalt explain everything. But first, breakfast."
"Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I'm so hungry I could eat a—"
Paused.
"...should I say dragon? Is that insensitive?"
Zoe actually SMILED.
Small but real.
"Come. Before thou collapsest."
From behind: "She smiled. AGAIN. At a MALE. What is happening? Is the world ending?"
The Hunter camp appeared—hidden by Mist from mortals.
Silver tents in perfect formation. Central fire. Supplies organized.
And Hunters.
At least a dozen, all turning to stare.
All seeing: a BOY.
"MALE IN CAMP!"
"Zoe, what have you DONE?!"
"Kill it!"
Weapons drawn. Chaos.
I stood there, surrounded by angry warriors.
"...this was a mistake."
My stomach growled.
"But I'm already here so..."
Zoe raised her hand.
"STAND DOWN."
Her voice cut through chaos.
"He is under MY protection. I swore upon the River Styx."
The Hunters froze.
Whispers: "She swore? For a MALE?"
Wolves noticed me.
Should have attacked.
Didn't.
Circled me, sniffing, whining uncertainly.
I smelled WRONG. Not Greek. Fire and sun.
One sat, tilting its head.
"...good doggies?"
One huffed.
"Sorry. Good WOLVES."
I patted its head.
It allowed it.
Every Hunter stared.
"The wolves aren't attacking?"
"What IS he?"
Then a figure emerged from the largest tent.
Small.
Looked twelve.
Auburn hair. Silver jacket.
But the POWER.
Air shifted. Temperature dropped. Light sharpened.
Every Hunter bowed.
"...oh no. That's her, isn't it."
Zoe, bowing: "Aye. Lady Artemis."
The goddess walked toward us, eyes locked on me.
Not angry.
Assessing.
"Zoe."
Single word. Infinite authority.
"My lady. I can explain."
"I felt it. A Styx oath. My lieutenant swearing on the River Styx. For a MALE."
Phoebe stepped forward. "He DROVE us out, my lady. With fire arrows. Explosive ones. Unlimited ammunition."
Artemis's interest sharpened. "Three of my Hunters. Driven from the field. By one boy."
She looked at me.
"Impressive. Or you three are getting sloppy."
Atalanta: "He manifested divine armor, my lady. And fire weapons. Not Greek power. Something... different."
Naomi: "And he smells like Sybaris. Dragon blood all over him. Claims he wounded it."
The wolves still sitting near me.
Artemis noticed.
"Even the wolves accept him. Curious."
She approached.
I tried to stand tall despite swaying.
She was short. I was taller.
But she radiated POWER.
I felt very small.
She circled slowly. Looking at wounds. Exhaustion. Empty sword bag.
"Not Greek."
"No."
The word came out more defensive than I intended.
Several Hunters' eyes narrowed at the tone. The lack of proper address.
Phoebe looked ready to say something, but Artemis raised a hand.
"And you carry divine blood. I can sense it."
She paused, eyes narrowing.
Recognition there. She knew I wasn't Greek.
But she didn't ask.
Didn't press.
Just noted it.
Then—
GRRRROWWWWWL.
My stomach.
Loud and desperate.
Artemis stopped.
"...when did you last eat?"
"Uh... had a sandwich yesterday? But that's it. Been kind of busy."
She blinked.
Looked at Zoe.
"He fought three Hunters while THIS hungry?"
Zoe nodded.
Something shifted in Artemis's expression.
"Sit. Eat. THEN we talk."
To her Hunters: "Feed him. Properly. He's a guest under Styx oath. Treat him accordingly."
They brought SO MUCH FOOD.
Bread, meat, fruit, cheese.
The SMELL.
"Is this real?"
Zoe, nearby: "Eat, fool."
I ATTACKED the food.
No dignity. Just eating.
The Hunters watched in amazement.
"He eats like a wolf."
"And he FOUGHT like that?"
"Beat us like that."
Murmurs of impressed respect.
Artemis sat across from me.
Not speaking.
Just observing.
I saw a small smile when I choked on bread and kept eating.
Zoe spoke quietly to Artemis: "He has warrior's spirit. Starving, exhausted, wounded. Yet stood defiant."
"I noticed."
After the feeding frenzy, I slowed.
Could breathe. Could think.
Looked up.
Everyone staring.
"...uh. Sorry. I was really hungry."
Artemis's lips twitched.
"Clearly. Name?"
"Aditya. Aditya Rudransh."
"Aditya. Sun-born. Fitting, given the fire."
"Now. Explain. Start with: why do you smell like dragon blood?"
Everyone started shouting questions.
Artemis raised her hand.
SILENCE.
"One at a time."
To me: "Start simple. The dragon. What happened?"
So I told them.
Between bites.
Bus attack. Six people eaten. Fought Sybaris. Stabbed it. Sword stuck. Dragon fled.
Disbelief turning to shock turning to belief.
"You stabbed SYBARIS? Alone?"
Looking at my wounds differently now.
"And you came to San Francisco because...?"
"Quest. To Alcatraz."
Artemis's interest sharpened.
"Alcatraz. We're hunting monsters there."
We stared at each other.
Same target.
"...interesting."
Questions continued.
Nothing about my gods. Nothing about godly parent. Nothing about WHERE my power came from.
Just:
What happened with dragon? Why Alcatraz? What's your quest? Where did you learn to fight?
I answered what I could, kept rest vague.
They didn't press.
Artemis watched, those ancient eyes seeing more than I said.
She KNEW I wasn't Greek.
Had suspicions.
But didn't voice them.
Finally, after three helpings and two dozen questions, Artemis stood.
"You're exhausted. You need rest before we discuss Alcatraz further."
Gestured to a Hunter.
"Show him to a tent. He sleeps first. Then we plan."
As I was led away—barely able to walk—I heard Artemis speak quietly to Zoe.
"Keep watch on him. He's not Greek. That power is old. Foreign. Powerful."
"Aye, my lady."
"And Zoe?"
"My lady?"
"You smiled at him. Three times."
Pause.
"I noticed."
Too tired to hear Zoe's response.
Shown to a tent, given a bedroll.
"Sleep. We'll wake you for planning."
I collapsed.
Asleep before my head hit fabric.
END CHAPTER 14